The 42nd
by Azariah Green
Summary: Many tributes have faced the horrors of the Arena before Katniss, Peeta, and even Haymitch. This is the story of the 42nd Hunger Games, and the struggle for survival both within and outside the Arena. May the odds be ever in your favor.
1. Prologue

*Disclaimer* Obviously I am not Suzanne Collins. This world was not created by me and none of what I write is canon.

This is the prologue to the 42nd annual Hunger Games. Please feel free to critisize, beeing an aspiring novelist I'm looking for input (negative or positive) on my writing style. So if it's good, let me know, if it's downright awful, feel free to shoot it full of holes.

**Prologue**

He never thought it would be possible to scream, shout, cry out with everything he had, every single fiber of his being, and not make a sound. He was so very wrong. He knew that now.

The pain had never been so real, so fundamental, so primal. A pain beyond any comprehension. A pain that tore into his being, a pain sharper than any knife could inflict. If there was a hell, he imagined it would be something like this. He briefly wondered if this _was_ hell and the Game Makers were simply the demons, trapping them in, preventing any escape.

No.

You didn't have to run in hell. You wouldn't have to watch the life fade the eyes of a fellow human being by your own doing. You wouldn't have to feel thick warm blood of an old friend splatter across your face in hell. This was worse than hell. In hell at least you were already dead.

No. No, no no. You couldn't have hope in hell. You couldn't have love sustaining you in hell. In hell you would have no reason for fighting. A flash of brown eyes flitted through his mind. The glint of her wide smile. The smooth melody of her sweet precious voice echoed in his ears. He could fight. He _would _fight. He had hope. He had her. And damn them all, he would make it through this. He would see her again. There was no other option.

Damn the Games. Damn the Game Makers. Damn the Capitol. He was stronger than that. _Bring your flames, bring your spears, bring your death_, he found himself thinking. _Tear my flesh open, shatter my bones, drain my blood, but you won't take my hope. You can't. You can't destroy love._

A shout of oh-so-rare joy escaped his lips at the thought and warm tears began to drip down his face. He didn't bother to wipe them away, never mind all of Panem was watching in. He was not ashamed.

So wrapped up was he in his renewed hope that he didn't hear or see the approaching figure winding it's way through the trees, not a stone's throw away. He didn't see the arrow nock on the string, he didn't feel the danger of the sharp metal tip, and he certainly didn't hear the low sob of frustration that came from the wielder as the bow was drawn taut.

The arrow whistled menacingly as it sped through the air.

- - - - -

*That's that. Chapter one to come sometime this week, hopefully within the next couple of days*


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_1 Month earlier_

His eyes fluttered open of their own accord, but refused to stay open at first. He could hear odd scraping noises, like something heavy brushing against bark, something climbing a tree. A mixture of gruff voices also permeated the air, some callous and stern, others sharp howling guffaws of hilairity. He opened his eyes again, this time succeeding in keeping them open.

The sight that flooded into his mind took a while to sort itself out in his groggy state. When everything focused in he found himself gazing into the sky, an opaque overcast thing, and at the long branches of surrounding pines trees that appeared daunting and black, silouhetted against the bright gray beyond. The air smelled of rain, though none was falling, the wind blew in occasional bursts, cold but not frigid, and the ground on which he lay was soft, littered with years worth of fallen twigs and pine needles.

He tried to sit up and was rewarded for his effort with a dull throbing pain that shot up his spine. He found that breathing came as a laborous task. He tried again and was met with the same results, this pain more profound than the last, a shout escaping his lips. The voices were advancing, their owners' footsteps giving off soft crunching sounds as they trampled the undergrowth beneath them. One of them called out his name.

"Kaston?" The voice was a smooth baritone, familiar. "You all right?"

He tried to reply but all he managed was a low groan.

"What d'you know, he's alive!" came another, higher pitched, half-laughing. "I must say, you never fail to impress. Never quite seen a fall like that in my career."

"Shut up, Danter, he could be hurt."

"Oh I doubt it. He's tough-skinned he is."

A face suddenly popped into view above, obscuring Kaston's display of the sky. A man of about twenty-two, light brown hair, hazel eyes, thick eyebrows, and a square jaw. Larken. "Need help up?" he asked offering a hand. Kaston nodded. He pulled Kaston up by the arm and the grabbed him underneath the arm-pitts, dragging him over to a nearby tree and leaning him up against it.

Kaston looked aroung the surrounding forest. Men of all ages and builds were either already gathered about in the small clearing, or still climbing down their trees to figure out what had happened. They were a ragtag bunch of men and boys, dressed in the same tattered and worn outfits many of them had had for years. Some had bowed legs and hunched backs from years of sawing trees and lugging about planks. Others had the tell tale dark circles about their eyes and the pallid complextion of the youth thrown into hard labor too soon and too fast. One of them stood not far off, a dark-haired, brown-eyed, nineteen year old. Danter.

"What happened?" Kaston asked to no one in particular.

"Fell." An old man shouted from somewhere in the small group.

"Yeah, I think I figured that out by myself. How?"

"Safety belt snapped when you were sawing about twenty feet up, that was quite a fall. Lucky you didn't land on a rock." Larken replied.

"So much for the safety aspect, huh?" Kaston said, giving a bitter laugh.

"Well, you know as well as I do, the Capitol doesn't really care what happens to District Seven or any of it's workers as long as they get their lumber."

"And their tributes." Kaston said in a dark tone.

"And their tributes." Larken agreed.

A sudden eerie silence fell over the loggers. The mention of the very thing they had been trying to forget now loomed over them like a bird of prey. Everyone here had someone at risk of dying in that Arena, whether it be themselves or their children. Some of them fidgeted uncomfortably, others turned around and made their way back to their trees. Others still simply stood, eyes blank and lifeless as all the "what ifs" played through their minds and paralyzed them in fear or sorrow. Such was life. The Games would always come. The Games would always kill. The Games would always thrive. And no one could do anything about it, no one was brave enough to rebel, no one wanted to end up as the second District 13. Now they would have to face the terrors of the Games once again. The reaping loomed just around the corner, a menacing monster, just three days away. Happy Hunger Games, Panem.

Larken clapped Kaston on the shoulder. "You should head back to town. You've had enough for the day."

"No, I'll-" Kaston began.

"Ha!" Larken laughed. "I'm surpirised. I thought you would take any excuse to be with Mallery." Kaston smiled.

"You're odd, you know that?" Kaston replied.

"Oh? And why's that?" Larken asked, half-sarcastically.

"You're her brother. Shouldn't you have some sort of vendetta against me and her?"

"Nah. You're the only guy whose ever treated her like something valuable. Treated her with what she deserves, and then some. So get going, I'm sure she's waiting for you, and I want you two to have as much time together as possible before the Reaping. Just in case...."

Kaston attempted to smile but failed miserably.

"Well, thanks. It means a lot. I'm glad that I'm trusted."

He shouldered his pack and turned to leave. He knew it was all a joke, Larken knew Kaston's chances of having his slip of paper emerge from that glass ball were low, that he never signed up for tessarae, even when he needed them. If only he knew what Kaston had done. If only he knew of the impulsive, stupid thing he had done. Then he might think again. Not that Kaston would take back his actions. He'd willingly march into the Arena, onto national television, and into Death's waiting arms, than take back what he had done.

So Kaston walked through the trees, heading home, heading to Mallery, heading to the Reaping.

- - - - -

*There's Chapter one. A little bland, short and not too exciting, I know, but it's just setting up the story.*

*I'll try and get chapter 2 up later this week.*

*Oh, and thanks for reviewing, it helps me tweak and polish up my writing style and plot building*


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

In the time it had taken Kaston to walk the two miles from the towering pines of the logging site to the battered shacks that marked the edge of town, a drizzle had begun to fall before transorming into a full-blown torrential downpour. He knew he must look awkward, hobbling about in an odd fast-paced waddle through the rain, dark brown hair plastered to his face and gray-green eyes occasionally wincing in pain. Nothing was broken, he would know if it was, but there was at least bruising to a few vertabrae. He wouldn't be able to bend over for a while. Wouldn't that be perfect? Sending a cripple into the Arena? It had happened before. He shook the thought away quite litterally.

The familiar outlines of storefronts and houses crept slowly into view, silent sentinels. The usual chatter of early evening gossip was gone, everyone seeking refuge within their homes, and instead replaced by the pounding of rain and pealing of thunder. He passed a few of the wood and brick structures before one in particular found his eyes, it's windows aglow with the warm golden light of a crackling fire. His heart skipped a beat as a figure passed across the window, casting a temporary shadow. Mallery. He resisted the urge to sprint staight the door, despite his back, and bound through the doorway. He had something a little more important to attend to first. Something that would both breed joy and possibly death.

He turned at the next street, limping down towards the simple two floored home that belonged to Shelsy & Rellan Domarry. Shelsy promised she would have it finished by now. He hobbled up to the door and twisted the knob. Locked. He tried the doorbell instead. The sound of creaking floorboards greeted his ears and he could almost picture the tiny old woman scuffling up to the door as quickly as she could. "Coming dear!" he heard her call from inside. A couple seconds later the door was flung open. "Oh, I'm so sorry dearie, I forgot you would be coming by! I would've unlocked it had I known. I'm so sorry! Come on in you look wet."

"I _am_ wet." Kaston replied as he walked into the main room, Shelsy locking the door behind him. The room was a large workshop where Rellan did all of the repairs for the broken saws, drills, and other equiptment, seeing as the Captiol wouldn't. A long counter stretched across the far wall coated in saw dust and metal scraps. "Is it ready?" he asked, almost a little too anxiously. He cleared his throat. She didn't miss his attempt to cover up his eagerness.

"Oh, don't do that, dear! You _should_ be excited about it, and yes it is done. I'll go fetch it, marvelous thing it is, finest I've made if I might say so myself." She babbled in her comforting voice.

"That good, huh?" Kaston asked.

"Only the finest for the finest." she chuckled, turning to a stair well adjacent to the workshop counter that led to the living quarters above the shop. Her pink carpet slippers vanished around the counter, leaving Kaston alone. He heard her tinkering around opening and shutting drawers. He walked over to an old rocking chair that sat in the corner next to the old TV set and began to sit in it. Beginning was as far as he got however, when he was reminded of his injury as his back protested with a sharp twinge of pain. So instead he stood, glaring at the TV screen, the screen that would soon display the brutal deaths of sons, daughters, brothers, and sisters. The screen which would soon be shouted at by Rellan, and weeped at by Shelsy. The screen he might very well appear upon.

The screen Mallery might appear on. His teeth hurt under the pressure of his suddenly clenched jaw. He balled his fists and it took quite a bit a self-resraint to not send one of them through the TV. Wouldn't want the Peacekeepers after him, now would he?

"You okay, Kaston, dear?" Shelsy had returned with a colored paper bag dangling from her thin knobby fingers.

"Yeah, I...uh. Just thinking about the Games."

"Oh, don't do that. No need to focus on the bad."

"Damnit! Why does everyone say that?" Kaston demanded, a little more harshly than he meant. "Why does everyone just want to ignore the inevitable? Just turn a blind eye? We can't ignore it! It's gonna come whether we acknowledge it or not! And pretending it doesn't exist isn't going to make things all happiness and butterflies!"

Shelsy laid a motherly hand on his shoulder. "Kaston, dear. What we're you thinking about?"

Kaston didn't answer immeadiately, letting his breathing return to normal. "Mallery. I was thinking about Mallery in the Games. I saw her in my mind. Her name coming out of that ball, the Capitol playing dressup with her, her getting run through with a..." he turned away, refusing to let Shelsy see the tears trickle down his face. He managed to catch his sob and turn it into a sigh, and moderate his breath. "I saw the Capitol kill her."

There was a long pause before Shelsy spoke up again. "Kaston. You stress too much. It's not good for a young man like yourself. You're only eighteen and you act like you've experianced the stress of someone as old as myself. It's almost like you need it to run yourself."

"Maybe I do."

"I know you're stronger than the Capitol, dear. Don't let them get to you, keep them and their stress out. Prove that you're better than them."

"I can't. I can't just go skipping off and sing a song like there's not a single dark thing in the world. There is death, there is pain. I can't just ignore that."

"Don't let stress fuel you Kelton."

"I'll have to. It'll be my only strategy if I'm reaped."

"And why would your name come out of that reaping?" Shelsy asked, her comforting tone not wavering a bit, although an edge of concern found it's way into her voice. Kelton didn't repond.

"So can I see how it turned out?" he asked gesturing to the colored bag Shelsy still held. She seemed taken aback, her brows knitting in worry. She didn't press him.

"A-absolutely dearie." She held out the paper bag. Kaston took it and delved a hand inside, pulling out an object wrapped up in folds of brown paper. He unwrapped it and felt the surprisingly heavy object drop into his hand. He felt himself go dizzy as the reality of what he was planning and what he was holding sunk into his core. He staggered back a few steps. Shelsy chuckled. "Careful, dearie."

Kaston simply stared at it and marvelled at Shelsy's craftmanship. Wonderfully, expertly made. He closed his eyes and let himself feel the weight in his palm, before wrapping his fingers about it's form and opening his eyes again. "Thank you, Shelsy. Thank you."

"Not a problem at all, dear. It was quite expensive, mind you, to get all the materials I needed to make it. I appreciate your paying for it." Shelsy said, and then paused, concerned once again. "How did you pay for it? You must have been saving up for quite a while."

"Ah, no not quite." Kaston replied looking into those timeworn eyes. He should just say it and get it out of the way, nice and fast. She would find out eventually anyway. He didn't relish the fear, concern, and scorn that would follow. "I - uh. I signed up for tessarae. Then I traded around with what I got until I could afford it."

Shelsy's lack of emotion or facial expression was downright frightening. The calm even voice with which she next spoke didn't help in the slightest. "Oh? And how many did you have to sign up for?"

"Ten." The word was painful coming out of his mouth. "And then another...another twenty-three. For later, if everything goes according to plan."

Again Shelsy was void of emotion "Yes, it must have been something quite high."

"I'm sorry, Shelsy. I know it was stupid, I know I shouldn't've. But-" He gave a frustrated sigh. "I _had _to. I jsut had to. I can't explain it, I - "

Shelsy cut him off. "No, dear. It's okay. In fact, I'm glad you did." Kaston was taken aback.

"What?" He asked, shcok in his voice evident.

"Yes, dearie," She said with a warm smile. "Now I know doom and gloom isn't all that motivates you. You have something far more powerful. Something that will allow you to overcome anything you face. You have love living inside of you dear. And you can't destroy love, no matter what. Even in the most dire of circumstances."

Kaston simply stared at her, uncertain of what to do or say.

"Now, I suggest you go hide that for when you plan on using it. Plus I'm sure Mallery is waiting for you to come back home. You don't want to keep her up do you?"

"No. Definately not. She gets cranky when she get's tired. And I don't want her to get jealous that I'm spending all my time with the lovely old Shelsy. " Kaston joked, releived at her reaction.

Shelsy chuckled. "Well, we don't want her to grow suspicious then, do we?" She joked back re-wrapping the package and putting it bag in the bag for Kaston.

"Good-bye, dear."

"Good-bye, Shelsy.

"I'll see you at the Reaping." She said as he opened the door.

"Yeah." he replied feeling his heart sink as the knowledge that he now had his name cast into that ball thirty times settled into his mind. Not the highest, but still up there. Damn his foolishness. What a shame it would be to be reaped on his final year of eligibility. Especially after what he had chosen to do.

The rain seemed to fall heavier, and the clouds grow darker than he remembered as he hobbled back through the strom. At least this was a storm of water. He may very well have to soon face a strom of blood.

- - - - -

*And there you have chapter 2. I'll have 3 up as soon as I can. Chapter four promises to be exciting though. (At least in my opinion.) Sorry if this one was a bit dull, again, just setting the story up. You'll find out what the object Shelsy made is here soon, if you haven't already guessed it.*

*Let me know what you think so far*


	4. Chapter 3

*Sorry for the wait, crazy week, and writer blocks don't pair well*

**Chapter 3**

The ominous shadow that was the reaping faded his mind the second he crossed the threshold. The rain didn't matter, his back didn't matter, the Games didn't matter. All that mattered was the person who had flung herself into his arms, completely uncaring that she was getting herself soaked by doing so. All that mattered was the head nestled between his neck and shoulder, the person his arms wrapped around, the voice that spoke out.

"Kaston." That was it. One simple word. Yet the impact was greater than he could describe. It had a greater weight to it than normal, a deeper meaning. It sounded cherished, a word that would be forever safe on her lips.

"Mallery." he replied. He heard a soft sigh of contenment come from her, as she lifted her head from his shoulder and kissed him lightly on the cheek, he kissed her back.

They simply stood there for a long while, locked in each other's embrace, the rising and falling of their chests, and low sighs of their breath being the only movment or sound to accompany them. _This was what you live life for, _Kaston thought. _this right here is the only thing in life that matters. _

He didn't know how long it had been when he felt her hands lift from his back, and they disengaged. He looked at her noticing her blue shirt was damp with the rain water that soaked him through. "I'm sorry." he said gesturing.

"No, it's fine." she said smiling. "Where's Larken?" she asked.

"Still working. I got sent back early."

"Why?"

"Fell."

Mallery's brows knitted slighlty over her georgeous brown eyes, a brief expression of concern and curiosity overtaking her thin round face.

"Fell?" she asked.

"Yeah, nothing bad, the harness belt snapped, Just a little bruised and winded."

"Ahhhh, poor Kaston." she joked sarcastically. "Gonna let gravity get to you like that? And here I thought you were a _real_ man." She smiled at him, that precious gilimmering smile that burnt itself into his mind long after it was gone. "I'm glad though."

"Glad I fell off a tree? And here I thought you loved me." he joked back.

She laughed. "No, I'm glad you got to come back early. I like spending time, just the two of us."

Kaston smiled and kissed her on the lips very briefly. "Me too." he winced as he a quick jolt of pain shot up his back.

"You sure you're okay?" Mallery asked.

"Yeah. Just sore. You mind if I go and change into something dry real quick?"

She nodded "Why would I mind?"

Kaston shrugged, heart pounding with anticipation to get upstairs. "You wouldn't. I just wanted to run it by you." He turned to face the rickety stair case and began to creak his way up it, feeling he would fall through the ancient steps at any given moment. He reached the upstairs hallway a short but bright thing lined by two doors to either side. He turned to the first door on the right, his room.

He had lived here with Larken and Mallery Rorell for two years now. His mother, Clairel had been tortured bloody and raw by the Peacekeepers for talking openly and publicly against the Capitol and the Games. She was imprisioned when Kaston was six, and lived in her cell somewhere far off in the Capitol until she died three years ago. They said she had died of heart failure. Kaston didn't believe them. The only things Kaston had to remeber her by were the few notes she had written him, that the Capitol had allowed her to send. His father didn't take her death well. He wasted the little money they had on bottles upon bottles of cheap alcohol, going on late-night drunken wanderings of the town and yelling at any Peacekeepers he could find, blaming them for the murder of his wife, his "Golden Gleam" he had called her. He had loved, he had experianced that thing that cannot be described, and then he had had it ripped from him by the Capitol.

Roughly a year later, his father was on one of his drunken rages when he suddenly collapsed, face down on the living room rug. Dead. Alcohol poisioning they had said. Kaston remembered the funeral, remembered them lowering his cheap wooden box, they best they could afford, into the ground. And he remembered crying. The man who had once been so kind, cheerful, and protective had been reduced to a weeping, despondant man who cared not even for himself. All this because his love had been taken away. Love had been severed, and the result was that Kaston lost a great mentor, provider, protector, and teacher. He had lost his father.

So he moved in with the Rorells. Larken, Mallery, and himself were able to make enough money to run the house. Though Mallery and Kaston were not yet old enough to be required to have jobs, they signed up anyway, needing the money to make things work, and becoming just a couple of the many childeren shoved into the labor field. Their father Rourke Rorell, was rarely there, and contributed financially even less often. Larken was born to Lilian Rorell after she had been raped by a Peacekeeper. Needless to say no one in District Seven was very fond of Peacekeepers. She was a social outcast for a couple of years before Rourke fell in love with her, married her, and fathered her next child, a daughter. Mallery Rorell. Lilian died in childbirth, and now Rourke spent weeks, and occasionally months out of the house, jumping around from mistress to mistress, attempting to assauge the pain that would never go away. He made little notice of Kaston when he had first discovered the young man had taken up residence, and said he didn't care when he did notice. He didn't care about very much these days. Luckily for Kaston that meant he got this room.

It was a small room, but very few rooms in the town were any larger, maybe some stores and the Justice building, but not here in the homes. As long as the people were able to live, right? It was lit by a small bedside lamp that itself was set upon a dark wooden nightstand. There was a bed lying next to the stand and perpendicular to the door. A dresser that Kaston had built himself from excess lumber stood on the other side of the bed, and across the room, opposite the foot of the bed was a desk, once belonging to Rourke that now housed dozens of books, folders, maps, and fragments of paper.

Kaston loved history and got his hands on as many things on the subject that he could, not that there were very many. What he had learned thrilled him, though. Apparently, what is Panem had once been three entirely seperate countries called, Canada, Mexico, and The United States of America. He would often pour over the maps, comparing the old maps of North America to that of Panem. The old maps intruiged him with simply how many districts there were. America itself had fifty alone! Then there was Panem which was the same space as North America, but divided into just 12 districts. One night he had overlapped the two and held them up to the flickering light of his lamp, seeing both at once. He came to learn that where he lived had once been called District Oregon. The Capitol lay on the border between what was once the districts of Utah and Colorado, in the Rocky Mountains.

History wasn't his priority right now however. He instead layed his pack down on the desk, unzipping it and carefully pulling out the colored bag Shelsy had given him. The colored bag that might very well spell death for him. He pulled the brown wrapping paper out and quickly unwrapped it. For the second time that night, a small cold metal object plopped down into his palm, sending his heart-rate sky-rocketing. He planted his free hand on the desk to keep himself from falling over.

The ring was quite a beautiful thing, really. The lamp light caught on the diamond, sending a series of mini rainbows dancing within the gem's contours, an oval with pointed ends. It was supported on either end by white gold bands that curved and slid over one another in an almost musical fashion, glinting brightly, almost smiling back up at him. An inscription on the inside of the ring looked back up at him, _Our Love Will Never Die. _As if it might shatter with the slightest movement, Kaston set the ring down on the bed before jumping over to the dresser and pulling on the nicest things he could find, which addmitedly wasn't all that nice, a green button up dress-shirt, and his nicer pair of jeans. He then picked up the ring, holding it frimly in his right hand, and pushed the door open with his shoulder.

He made his way down the stairs an quietly as possible. Halfway down, a view of the living room opened up. Mallery sat on the old green sofa, legs curled up beneath her, head propped up on her hand, her not quite brown not quite blond hair cascading over her shoulders, eyes closed and mouth smiling. Kaston grew dizzy again and was surprised she didn't open her eyes and turn around to find out what that loud beating sound was. He trembeled slightly. _Ok, you can do this. You can do this Kaston. _He told himself, only half convinced. His legs wouldn't move. Why weren't his legs moving?

Then they were, making their way down the steps and onto the floor. He walked over to her and sat on the sofa next to her. She spoke, eyes still closed, mouth still smiling. "Feeling better now?"

"Yeah." he repaonded not quite sure if he was or not. Maybe he wasn't okay, but in that really good nervous kind of way. "So, I learned a new puzzle for you today." he said. Her eyes opened and she turned to face him, wicked grin splaying across her features.

"Really?" She asked. She loved puzzles and mental conundrums.

"Really." Kaston laughed, working as hard as possible to keep his voice from wavering, and betraying his nervousness.

"Well, let's have at it." she laughed back.

"Okay. Hold out your hands, palms up." she did so "Okay. So you have a rabbit in one hand and another rabbit in the other. And the rabbit in your left wants to get to the one in your right. How do you get them together?"

"Wow, this one's a little out there."

"Just try it out." Kaston replied

She flipped one hand over onto the other, as if clapping.

"Great, you just went and killed both of them."

Mallery laughed "So that's not it?

"Definitley not it."

She sat for a few silent minutes, gears turning, trying to figure the game out. "I don't know. What is it?" she finally asked.

"You sure you want to give up?" Kaston replied. She nodded.

Kaston detatched his pointer finger from the fist that held the ring, carefull to keep all the others curled in to hide it from Mallery's eyes, and pointed to her left palm, which was closest to him. "Well," he said, voice quivering slightly "the rabbit has to take the long way. It has to go all the way around-" he said tracing his outstretched pointer finger up her arm, across her shoulders, and down her right arm "-a long, long way to get to the other rabbit." he concluded, heart racing, finger point down directly on right palm, arm slung around her, embracing her. "It has to take all the back roads, and fight it's way through all the nasty things that are out to get it along the way. But that's all okay because the two rabbits love each other, and in the end-" he continued opening up his hand and letting the ring fall from his to hers "it was more than worth it."

The room grew suddenly quiet as Mallery stared at the small, beautiful ring she now held. Fear gripped him so utterly and Kaston wondered if this is what all proposing men felt like when there weren't any words filling the air afterwards. He looked up at her face. Her bottom lip was quivering, eyes fixed on the ring. As he watched a lone tear rolled down her smooth cheekbones. Then another, and another. A sob escaped her lungs, pushing it's way out and bringing ianother with it. Kaston, unsure what to do, gently lifted the ring from her hand, and, holding her hand in one of his own, and the ring in another, he slid the ring gently up her ring finger and kissed the top of her hand lightly.

"Mallery, " he could feel tears coming to his own eyes. "Mallery Rorell. Will you marry me?"

She looked him stright in the eyes, still sobbing, and flung her arms about him, locking him in an embrace. Then she pulled back, face displaying no longer mere happiness, but conflicting emotions, confusion. She stood up off the couch, head darting in different directions, like an animal trying to find it's way out of a cage. She let out a loud, grief stricken wail, and, with the ring still on her finger, darted for the door, flung it open, and sprinted off into the pitch-black, rain soaked night beyond. 

- - - - -

*Wouldn't that just be uncomfortable, to say the least? Anyway, that's chapter 3. Hopefully 4, which I'm really looking forward to writing, will be up later this week.*


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The following two days passed by in an apathetic and despondent haze, each second blurring into the other, nothing to distinct it from the previous one. All Kaston knew was frustration and sorrow. He had locked himself in his room without contact or food, lying on the bed, desperately attempting to escape himself, to crawl out of his own body, leaving all the confusion and pain behind. Many times the pain was so great that his body shut itself off, drifting into an uncomfortable and dreamless sleep. What was worse and far more frightening however, was when his emotions disengaged completely, leaving him as still and heartless as a rock might be.

He had done little, his only physical actions having been throwing the colored bag into the trash, only to regret it and dig it back out less than an hour later. He had not bathed, not eaten, not said a single word. His body didn't even seem to need to relieve itself. And so for two days he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling with nothing more than his own tortured mind for company. Death was worse than this.

He didn't know whether he was angry with Mallery or not. All he knew was that he didn't want to talk to her. Once in every great while he would hear movement echo from somewhere else in the house. He didn't know whether it was Larken or Mallery, and didn't care. He didn't want to face anyone, especially Mallery. He was done. Yet his heart continued to beat, each pulse bringing with it another flood of unwanted emotions. He wished he could be someone, anyone, else.

He didn't bother keeping track of time. A day might've elapsed, maybe months. For all he knew the Reaping could've already passed, the Games be set in motion. He didn't care. Not anymore. Let the Capitol play their Games, just leave him alone.

All he had to distract him was the sound of rain pattering on the roof and windows, yet even that eventually faded away, leaving an uncomfortably loud silence to press down on his ears. Twice he retched, dry heaves that gripped and wracked his body, and he welcomed it, some sort of release, a physical outlet for his emotional wounds. But it wasn't near enough.

Silence. Pain. Broken love. He so desperately wanted someone to come and pull him out of it. And eventually someone did.

Kaston was in one of his emotionless phases, deadpan stare affixed to the bland expanse of white that was the ceiling, when the door was flung open. Larken stood in the doorway, an odd intense emotion painted across his face. Anger, concern, pity? Kaston couldn't tell. Larken pounded his way over to the bed and slapped his palm very firmly against Kaston's chest, balling up the front of his shirt in a fist and wrenched Kaston off the bed. He drew Kaston to him and placed his face directly in front of his own, eye to eye. Bitterness resonated in every syllable of Larken's tone. He spun Kaston around and shoved him out of the door, marching him down the stairs, past the living room, and out of the house, his forceful grip surely bruising Kaston's shoulder.

"After the Reaping, you and I are going to have a lot to talk about." Larken spat.

- - - - -

The town square was a pleasant place under normal circumstances, but now was a place of death, and depression. A large fountain gurgled from the middle of the square, surrounded by stylish buildings that those who actually possessed a meager amount of wealth were proud to own. Colored banners of purple, orange, and green waved down to all those gathered, each emblazoned with the Capitol's symbol. The cobble-stoned roads were swept and cleaned. Everything was in place. The Games were about to begin.

For the first time in his life, Kaston didn't fear the Games, he didn't fear the glass reaping balls, he didn't fear the capitol. Nor was he angry. He simply wanted out. He wasn't even aware of his feet moving him, it was as if his mind and body were two separate things, acting of their own will, and he was trapped inside his mind.

He was vaguely aware that he had taken his place in the section of the square especially roped off for eighteen year olds. He knew Mallery was most likely standing in the same vicinity, but he didn't bother to check, continuing to stare forward in his dead gaze. He felt an odd prickling feeling creep up his neck, the same feeling you get when someone is staring at you. He spotted the culprit, a curly-haired Shelsy staring him straight in the face from across the square, an odd emotion sunken deep into her aged eyes. Had he not know better, he would have thought she was smiling at him, as if rejoicing in some sort of hidden knowledge. He turned away.

The square was filled with the dull chatter of the crowd, a mixture of nervous whispering from parents and children, and raucous laughter from older men, mostly Peacekeepers, placing their bids on the Reaping's outcome. Kaston could barley stand it, a headache already baring its teeth at him, ready to strike. He was grateful, therefore, when the anthem blared over the crowd, casting all the voices into silence.

As the last few notes faded into farther corners of the town, a tall gangly man, clad in a green suit and sporting matching hair and goatee, stepped out onto the balcony of the Justice building, a large marble thing with white columns.

"Well, well, well. Hello, hello, hello all!" he called out, his voice upbeat and bouncy. His name was Marcus Idinious, Capitol through and through. He was soulful and chipper, and could very well be a comedian if he so wished. Perhaps he was back in the Capitol.

"Well, as you all know we are here to celebrate the 42nd annual Hunger Games. Will your district fight its way through, and celebrate glory, honor, and victory? Or shall is suffer a more sinister fate? Well, well, well now! It is all up to you! The key to victory lies in your choice, who will you choose to spur your district onwards? Choose wisely. Choose wisely indeed!"

Of course there was no choosing. Everyone knew this. There was no way to select who went into the Arena, other than a willing volunteer, and those were few and far between. But no one said anything, largely because they couldn't, but also because Marcus lifted the tension with his upbeat and colorful presentations, a soothing balm to the anxiety, if only temporary. Many loathed Marcus for this very reason, though. Yes he made them smile, yes he made them laugh, and yes he lifted their spirits. But he was causing them to laugh over the murder of their children.

"But first," he said flailing his arms about in the dramatic fashion he was so inclined to "how about a history lesson?! Yes, we tend to forget the origin of the Games, oh but what a tragedy that is! 'Why?' you ask? 'Why remember the beginning?' Such a magnificent and wondrous tale it is! Never does it fail to captivate, to enthrall, to ensnare! So join me as we plunge ourselves down deep into the farthest corners of history, into the dark crannies of the unknown! Join me on this magnificent journey through time!"

Marcus began, in his charismatic and intriguing way, to give the history of Panem, a country that rose from the ashes of global war. And it _was_ interesting, even if the outcome was a country that used fear and murder to run itself. Normally this was done by the mayor, although he was currently suffering from a lethal form of cancer that was quick acting, and too expensive for District Seven to treat.

Marcus concluded his tale on a quietly drawn out and dramatic note. When he next spoke he was practically yelling and the sudden transition from quiet to uncomfortably loud caused many to jump. "So! Will you continue to make history? Will you, District Seven, make your mark in this great country's past? Will you, District Seven, rise up to be forever know as… THE VICTORS OF THE 42ND HUNGER GAMES!?"

Many people clapped and applauded much against their own will, moved by the prowess of Marcus and his speech.

"Well…" Marcus continued, back to quiet, only to dive straight back into high volume. "It's time to find out!" He walked over to the first glass ball, in which thousands of slips of paper could be seen. "Ladies, first, of course!" He plunged his hand into the ball, and even from this distance, the rustling of paper could be heard. He withdrew a handful and plucked one from the very top of his small mound, letting the rest rain back down into the ball. "Ladies and gentlemen! Your female tribute, of District Seven…is…" He looked about the crowd dramatically. "Jayleene Noran!"

An audible sigh could be heard whispering out of those parents' mouth who had just had their daughters spared. An auburn haired girl, who had been standing just a few feet in front of Kaston, detached herself from the crowd and made her way forward to the stair case that led up to the balcony. Kaston recognized her from some of his classes at school. She maintained a stern, expressionless face as she ascended the stairs to stand next to Marcus Idinious, although her hazel eyes were watering.

"Well! There you have it. Look long and look well Panem! For you may very well be looking into the face of future fame! But, ladies and gentlemen of District Seven, the true question still remains. Who will complete the pair? Let discover the answer to this pressing mystery together!" Marcus went on, embelishing upon his words perhaps a little too much. He walked to the opposite side of the balcony, leaving Jayleene quite alone and desolate looking, and stood before the ball containing all of the male's slips, arms splayed wide above it. He gave one sweeping gand meaningful looking glance about the crowd before swooping a hand into it. He withdrew a single slip, sitting face-down it in his outstretched palm.

"District Seven," he whispered "Lying now within my hand, is your second key to fame and riches, your second warrior, your potential hero. And his name is..." Marcus trailed off blowing lightly on his palm, causing the scrap of paper to roll over, face-up. The crowd held it's breath. "...Kaston Dravis!"

The word seemed to take far too long to sing into his mind, but when they did they were not met with much surprise. _Damnit, Kaston. Way to go._ he thought as his feet carried him off on their own accord once more, weaving between onlooking bystanders and camera crews. _Propose, buy a ring, and use the money from tesserae for a wedding you'll never go to. For a bride you'll never marry. You deserve this. You deserve the Games._

For the first time in a while, an emotion registered in Kaston's mind. Anger. Anger and dissapointment. What a miserable person he was. A clueless, naive, selfish, ungreatful person. And he was furious at himself. And so it was that he climbed up the red-carpeted steps and had Marcus fling an arm around him. Then in front of the entire country, with a tribute under each arm, Marcus bellowed out "Well, well, well. Ladies and Gentlemen of District Seven, ladies and gentlemen of Panem, know these names, know these faces, know that these warriors of District Seven may very well rise up out of obscurity. Know these two tributes, for I want you shouting their names at the top of your lungs when District Seven emerges victoriously through the haze of battle and survival. Remember their names." He clapped both Kaston and Jayleene on the back. "Panem, brace yourselves. For its coming, racing, speeding, and its about to hit us with the full power of all it's thrill, all it's suspense, and all it's intrigue!"

Marcus smiled a wide smile, his unaturally golden eyes sparkling mischieviously. "My dear people, I give you the 42ND HUNGER GAMES!"

Kaston could almost hear the applause of the bloodthirsty echoing throughout the homes of the Capitol.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Kaston swayed side to side, the sound of creaking metal and straining motors echoing about him hauntingly as the elevator struggled to lift it's occupants.

"Quite the ride! Thrilling, is it not?" piped up Marcus from behind, giving Kaston's shoulder a quick slap. He merely grunted in reply. Did Marcus actually talk like this in his normal every-day conversations? Kaston may very well go crazy before he was even thrown into the Arena. He still had to spend the next few days with this man from the Capitol before being snuffed out in the Arena.

Jayleene stood off to one side of the elevator, looking like Kaston felt, eyes fixed dead ahead, jaw clenched firm, muscles working as if she were chewing. Yet there was more there than there was in Kaston. A deep primal look tainted her hazel eyes, a longing desperation, the turning of cunning and quick witted gears. She was already planning out her survival. Or was it something more? Those eyes showed many things, but none of them were fear.

She gave a quick jolt as the lift came to an abrupt stop and was flying past the doors almost before they had opened. Kaston merely took a deep sigh, one of thousands he was sure he would make, and trudged out past the doors, Marcus following closely behind.

The interior of the Justice Building was just as magnificent as the exterior, perhaps even more so. Thick red, purple, and golden carpets paved the sleek hardwood and marble floors. Frescoes adorned the walls and large elegant chandeliers hung from the ceiling, lighting the halls with specks of light. Electricity rarely ever failed here.

They headed down a hallway, Jayleene ahead of the other two by a few yards, and came to a large waiting room crammed with people, Larken, Shelsy, her husband Rellan, and even Danter, one of Kaston's fellow loggers, sat on one side of the room. No Mallery. On the other side sat an older woman, and two young girls, all with the same shade of auburn hair as Jayleene, and a young tired-looking man with blond hair that Kaston recognized from the logging field as well.

Time for farewells. Time for one last grasp at home, one last moment of sanity before tributes were thrown into the chaos.

Jayleene and Kaston were each directed into seperate rooms, lined with comfortable red sofas, and made to wait as their friends and families slowly leaked in and out of the room, granting wishes, providing caution, and ultimately being torn out of their lives for good. Kaston sat staring at the wall, at a framed work of abstract art, attempting to get his shaking legs and quivering jaw under control, but to no avail.

First in was Shelsy and Rellan. Rellan was a bald aged man, gnarled and knotted as an ancient tree, and just as tough. His strong jaw, sharp eyes, and broad shoulders painted him to be a fierce intimidating man that he was not. He shook Kaston's hand with a warm and genuinely reassuring smile. Shelsy walked around him and sat her self next to her husband on the sofa facing Kaston, her mouth upturned in that same smile she had given Kaston from across the square before the Reaping. That odd, knowing smile that was severely at odds with the situation. It was almost as if she wasn't in the least bit worried about the fact that Kaston could very well be dead within the next week. He knew this wasn't the case, he knew full well she didn't want to see him run through with a spear, or freeze to death, or to have his skull crushed in with a mace. There was simply something about that smile.

"Well, ready to bring 'glory and honor' to District Seven?" Rellan asked in his deep scraggly voice, repeating Marcus' words from the Reaping.

"Not really, no." Kaston managed to wheeze out, this being the first time he had used his voice in two and a half days. He cleared his throat.

"Didn't think so." Rellan sighed. Leaning in, a look spreading across his face that told Kaston he would do well to listen to the old man. "Yknow, I had a friend of mine go into the very first games. Nasty business. Unfortunately for him they were able to track down evidence that identified him as working with the rebels during the war. He was pretty high up there in the rebellion's leadership ladder too. I find it hard to believe that his named just happened to come out of that reaping ball."

Kaston listened, intrigued by the mention of the rebellion so openly in a relatively public place, but couldn't keep himself from asking "Why are you telling me this?"

Rellan didn't his question, but instead continued on with his story. " I was a tad more lucky. They never found out what I had done, that I had fought alongside that very same man. If they had I'd likely have been pulled of to the Capitol and killed."

"Why are you saying this here? What if you're being taped?" Kaston whispered.

"Son, when you come to be my age, you find that you don't quite care anymore." he said not bothering to whisper at all. "But all that time we fought against the Capitol, I came to realize something. They had no power over me, over any of us. They could beat us, overpower us, they could kill our bodies, but they could not vanquish us. Will is far greater a weapon than any gun. Will is something immense. It's greater than any Games they could throw at us, greater than the Capitol, it's even greater than death."

Kaston half-expected a Peacekeeper to burst through the door and drag the old man off, but none came. "What are you telling me?"

"I'm telling you, son, don't forget who you are. It's one of the greatest things you have. Maintain you're identity when you're in that Arena. Don't let them turn you into a murdering, self serving animal that you're not. If you have to die, die without the guilt of becoming another pawn of the Capitol. Die as yourself, not as their property."

Kaston couldn't help hide the desperation in his voice. "How?"

"Remember the things that are more important than life itself. For me it was freedom. Yet I've known you all your life, Kaston. I know that you love beyond what even you know. Let that guide you against the Games." Rellan said, tone low.

It took all Kaston had not to blow up on the two of them, to yell and rant at the top of his lungs that love was dead. Love didn't exsist anymore, love was not great, love had fled from him, gone and run off into the rainy night.

Shelsy must have noticed the emotion. she opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment the door opened and a white-clad Peacekeeper motioned for them to leave, informing them that their time was up.

All Kaston could think of as the couple left the room was that Rellan had ruined his life. He had created the Games. Kaston would now die as a mockery in front of the entire country because that man just couldn't be content with the life he had.

- - - - -

Larken and Danter were the next to to enter the room. Larken sat on the opposite couch and crackled his knuckles, obviously contemplating some sort of idea or plan.

'Well," he said, floundering for a conversation topic. "How you holding up?"

Kaston grunted.

A painful smile twisted across Larken's face. "Look, I know you're gonna do well out there."

Kaston couldn't help but laugh a bitter laugh. When would everyone stop feeding him these pointless happy lies. At least acknowledge the fact that he had no chance. No chance whatsoever. "Oh! Do I now? Please, enlighten me!"

Larken's face went stony.

"Well," piped up Danter "If you get shot out of a tree, at least we know you'll survuve that." Danter's attempt to lighten the atmosphere failed miserably.

"Why are you even here?" Kaston asked, perhaps a little too harshly. "I barely even know you."

"Well, hey! Fine I'll go. Just thought you might like some help! But no. no I'll be go-"

"Help?" Kaston demanded, cutting him off.

"Danter..." Larken said menacingly, a warning that Danter had said too much. Kaston didn't miss this.

"Larken? What's he talking about?" Kaston demanded, leaning forward and glaring at him.

"Nothing...it's nothing." Larken evaded.

"Tell me."

"No, Kaston. Not yet."

Next thing Kaston knew, he was on his feet flying toward Larken. He rammed into Larken, sending the sofa skidding across the floor and into the wall with a loud screech of wood on marble. He was tired of being left in the dark. He was tired of being caged. He was tired of being beneath everyone else. He pulled up Larken by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall, the impact sending a few of the framed pictures falling off the walls and clattering against the floor. He heard a dull crack as Larken's head was run up against the marble wall. The fury had come out of nowhere, and Kaston doubted anything could stop it right now. It was like the frenzied lashing out of a helpless cornered animal.

"DAMNIT! TELL ME!" He yelled. "TELL ME!"

Danter stood wide-eyed on the other side of the room. Pounding feet echoed from the hall beyond their door and muffled shouts of alarm bounced about the air. The door flung open with a crash and two Peacekeepers burst into the room, grabbing ahold of Kaston and attempting to pull him off of Larken.

"No! Let me go! No!" Kaston yelled, tears of frustration starting to build up in his eyes. "I want answers! No, damnit!

The four of them scuffled about noisily, limbs flying into faces and stomachs. Kaston had one of the Peacekeepers in an awkward kind of head-lock when an elbow slammed itself down into the small of his back, sending a crippling wave of agony up his spine, bringing him to the ground. Screaming and fighting the pain, he sprung back onto his feet and sunk his knee into a Peacekeeper's groin in one swift blow, before pinning him up against the wall he had so recently had Larken against. His hand found the man's throat and sat there.

An eerie silence filled the scene. A Peacekeeper lay on the ground with a bloody nose, the other pinned against the wall, Larken half-sitting, panting a few feet off. Kaston looked into the eyes of the Peacekeeper he had against the marble, reflecting the very fear Kaston himself felt, just nowhere near as paralyzing. What should he do? This would be the first time ever in the entire short remainder of his life that he would be on top, that he would have the advantage. He didn't know what to do, what decision to make.

Luckily his decision was made for him when a light, thin, warm hand settled gently on his arm and a beautiful melodic voice whispered gently in his ear.

"Kaston, sweetie. Please let him go." Mallery said. Kaston immediately obliged, feeling that doing anything else would be foolish with this amazing woman by his side.

"Thank you," She said calmly "Can we talk?"

- - - - -

Kaston and Mallery sat side by side in the sofa that was now at a haphazardly awkward angle, shoulders leaning up against each other, simply sitting in silence. Kaston had forbid any of the Peacekeepers to come in and fetch Mallery. There would be no time limit this time. Kaston noticed that they were both wearing the same exact clothes from when he had proposed to her. Neither of them had changed, neither of them had taken even the smallest bit of care for themselves for the past three days. Obviously this had been just as stressful for her as it had been for him.

"What are you thinking?" Mallery asked in a soft voice.

"I'm scared," Kaston's voice trembled. "And confused."

"Imagine how I felt." Mallery said.

Kaston didn't reply, not knowing what to say.

"Here I just got the very thing I had been looking forward to, the very thing I wanted. The _only_ thing I _ever_ wanted. The sight of that ring nearly stopped my heart. In a good way." She continued, playing her fingers across the beautiful ring that still encircled her finger. "I so desperately wanted to say yes, but something kept me back. I had never felt fear so intense before. Beyond the happiness I saw reality reaching out to get us. I wanted to say yes so badly-" A small sob escaped her, which she quickly grimaced away. "- but I couldn't ignore what was really going on. I kept asking myself 'what if I say yes? And what if right after I do he's pulled into the Arena? What if I have to watch my husband die?' I just couldn't bring myself to say yes. I couldn't let myself get that attached just to have you get taken away from me."

She turned and stared at Kaston with her watering for a long while before nestling her head on his shoulder, resting there as she continued.

"Then the anger came. I was so frustrated with you, Kaston. I kept wondering why you would do that. I knew you must've had used money from selling off tesserae to buy the ring. And knowing you, you probably signed up for even more for a wedding, in case I had said yes. I was angry with your decisions, with how rash you were being, with how you didn't even bother to think of the consequences. I couldn't help thinking of just how impatient you were. I mean one more year, that's all we would've needed, one more year and we'd no longer be eligible for the Reaping, we'd be safe to do whatever we wanted. We could get married without the fear of dying. Well, at least not in the Arena."

There was another long pause in which Mallery leaned up and kissed Kaston gently on the neck.

"But after a while I began to understand it all. It wasn't that you didn't recognize the risk, it was that you didn't care. That you would do anything for me. You knew those tesserae could send you into the Games, but I was more important to you than your own safety. You would give yourself up for me even though I don't deserve it. The greatest kind of love that there is. And if you would've waited, you still could've been drawn in for the Games and died in the Arena without me ever knowing how much you really do love me."

Th emotion welling up inside of Kaston only allowed one word to choke it's way out. "Thank you," he barely managed to whisper before the tears came.

"They let you take one thing from the District as a token, right? Something to remember home by?" Mallery asked calmly. Kaston nodded. "Well, will you take this, babe, and promise to always remember me while your in that Arena? Wear it for all of Panem to see? Let them know that they can't crush love?"

From within her pocket Mallery withdrew a glinting silver ring, similar to the one she wore on her own finger. It had Shelsy's handiwork written all over it. Shelsy's odd smile from across the city square and her knowing behavior earlier suddenly made perfect sense. She had known all along.

A lone sob came from Kaston as she handed him the ring letting him look it over. It was broad and bold, the diamond set within the metal rather than protruding from it. An inscription on the inside read _Death Does Not Vanquish Love_. Kaston broke down, the tears pouring down his face and sobs wracking his chest. He suddenly understood what Rellan was trying to tell him. Love would overcome the Games, not in terms of life and death, love could not die. But instead in terms of willpower, in terms of some great force that there were no words to describe.

Mallery plucked up the ring and ever so gently slid the ring onto his finger, kissing his hand as she did so. Then she was flinging her arms about him and whispering in his ear "Yes, I'll marry you."

."

- - - - -

*Sorry it took a while to get up. Don't know when I'll have Chapter six up, but definitely in a week, max.*

*Also for those of you interested in Literature terms, look out for Jayleene. She might end up being a foil character*


	7. Update

UPDATE

*Hey, sorry for the delay. I know I haven't updated in a while, I have a lot of studying to do for my AP American Hist test. When that's all said and done with I'll have no studying left and will have a new chapter up. A long one too. Compensation, right? Just hold on for another couple weeks.*


	8. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* Sorry it's been a while, AP tests. It's also been forever scince I've written so the quality of this chapter may not be all that good, I haven't had time to get back into the writing zone yet. And Chapter 7 may take a while too, seeing as there are still other finals I have yet to do. *

Kaston and Mallery left the room hand in hand, the new ring glinting on Kaston's finger. The warmth of her hands was reassuring, solid, real. One of the few things that's was, besides death. For the first time in days Kaston was able to feel his shoulders loosen a little. Just a little.

The happiness didn't last long however. A large hand pushed itself into Kaston's chest, stopping him. He looked up to kind the culprit a Peacekeeper with a large brow and hooked nose.

"Hand it over." he demanded.

"What?" Kaston asked, oblivious to what the Peacekeeper was asking.

"The ring. Give it to me. Now." the brute of a man demanded once more.

"No." the word was cold, harsh.

"Look, I couldn't care less what you think, what happy little thing you've got going on here. Just give me the ring."

Kaston felt another wave of anger beginning to overcome him, burning his insides. He'd had enough today, and he certainly didn't need this as well. He wondered what the man would look like pinned on the ground, fist in his throat. A small hand squeeze send the image fluttering away.

"Why?" a demand, not a question.

"Protocol. They've got to check to see if it has any hidden properties, if it can be used as a weapon in the Arena. An unfair advantage." the man explain quite indifferently

"What! How the hell could I kill someone with a ring?"

"You never know, people are crafty."

The was a long silent pause while they all stood, the Peacekeeper's hand still firmly against Kaston's chest.

"Kaston, give it to him." Mallery whispered softly, calmly.

"No. I can't just give up what little-"

"Kaston," she said more firmly, yet still calm "please."

Reluctantly, and while taking care to show as much hatred as possible, Kaston pulled the ring off of the finger on which it had just been secured on not a five minutes earlier and shoved it into the Peacekeeper's chest with such force he staggered back a few steps, nearly falling. The man gave a curt nod, a glare etched on his face before turning and briskly walking away.

"Thank you." Mallery whispered. Kaston merely nodded, desperately wanting to turn back and run down the hall to get his ring back. "You'll get it back, don't worry." Mallery said, noticing Kaston's reaction.

Slowly and somberly the two traipsed down the elegant hall, the richly colored carpets and magnificent artwork set in gilded golden frames, seeming to simultaneously cheer them and mock them. The hall wasn't a long one, but the walk was, every single last moment drawn out in a vain attempt to postpone the inevitable.

As they reached the end of the hall, odd conversation began to meet their ears, a whispered, yet heated debate. The waiting room came into view, packed with Marcus, Larken, Danter, Rellan, Shelsy, a Peacekeeper, and the tired looking blond man. They stood in the middle of the room in a tight circle, shoulder to shoulder, heads leaning inwards.

"No, no, no, no, no. We can't do that! If he knows _they'll know._ We can't have that."

"Well then, how is he going to know, how will we tell him?"

"Cerrick. We can have Cerrick tell him."

"That's preposterous! They'll be in the Capitol! Everything's wired there!"

"Not if he does it on the train!"

"What about you? Are you sure you can help us without being caught?"

"Ah, of course, I believe so."

"You sure he'll cooperate?"

"Who, might I ask, Cerrick?"

"No, no, no._ Hendricus_."

"Well, yes I-"

"That's great and all guys, but what about her? Are we going to pretend there's only-"

"Shhh!"

They turned around, having noticed Kaston and Mallery viewing the debate from the hallway. They obviously didn't want them to hear.

"What's this all about?" Kaston demanded, looking around at the unlikely group of conversationalists.

"Nothing." the Peacekeeper replied, running his hand through his white hair sighing. His blue eyes shot Kaston with a sign of warning.

"No. Tell me!" Kaston yelled. Once more faced with having knowledge withheld. Surely he deserved to know, did he not? He would be dead in a week. He had the right.

Rellan detached himself from the group and walked over to Kaston, face grim yet hiding traces of hopeful expectancy. "It's time you start heading to the train, they'll be waiting for you."

"No." Kaston said, surprised at how authoritative his voice sounded. "I'm not going anywhere until you all tell me what's going on."

Macrcus walked over as well, his green coat tails flapping behind him as he crossed over the carpet. "I daresay we have a plan! Quite a magnificent one too! Dark, daring, and bold to say the least! Now, the - ouch! Why?" he asked Rellan who had delivered a quick blow to Marcus' ribs with a deft stroke of his elbow.

"Shut up!" he whispered. He gave Marcus a brief glare before turning to face Kaston. "You will find out, but if we tell you now we'll just be putting you into trouble you needn't be in. Got that? Cerrick will fill you in, and I know that you are going to _hate_ hearing this, but you are just going to have to trust us."

"You- you mean-" Mallery said shakily, suppressing a deep emotion. "we may have a -a way to save Kaston?"

"Yes." Rellan replied.

"And Jayleene" piped up the young blond man, annoyed.

"How is this possible?" Kaston asked, bewildered, shell-shocked

"We have people on the inside" Larken answered.

A deep silence filled the room.

"Oh, we must be going!" Marcus announced gazing at his watch, catching everyone off guard, "plus we have already divulged many mysteries that were supposed to remain hidden deep within the dark crevices of the mind. I do believe that the magnificent marvel of technology, known as the train awaits us."

Kaston merely stood, clenching Mallery's hand hard for support as he attempted to balance atop his suddenly weak legs. He didn't even pause to consider how awful a full week with Marcus was going to end up being. All that remained solid within his mind was the silver of hope, however small and however weak, that perhaps, just maybe, he might survive the 42nd Hunger Games.

*Short, I know. Next chapter will actually be fleshing out their plan and introducing Cerrick as well as getting to know Jayleene as a character*


End file.
